“…Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live.”

Leaves & Grass

February 25, 2006

I wrote this at the corps retreat in January but didn’t get to post it until now…sorry

LEAVES & GRASS
Mary A. Parks

The summertime – so full of potential. Green leaves cover the trees, grass grows rich and lush all over the ground. The soil even smells earthy. Summer turns to autumn. Slowly the leaves die, first turning vibrant shades of red, orange, yellow and brown. But soon, that bright color gives way to dull, drab brown. Dead leaves cover the ground. Fallen from the surrounding trees, they form a blanket over what should be fresh grass. Swirling winds form twisters that pick the leaves up and scatter them in all directions.

As autumn turns to winter and winter to spring, the leaves decay, having fallen from the tree. Combining with the ground cover, they form rich mulch. That mulch nourishes the grass growing underneath. As winter turns to spring, the grass grows thick and lush once more. The promise that summertime held is fulfilled in the bright hues and shades of spring. After the dead seasons of autumn and winter, the earth comes to life once more. Without the dead leaves that fell from the tree, the grass may not have received the nutrients it needed to grow bright and plentiful.

In high school, my life was full of potential. My dreams were coming true. College lay ahead, with a scholarship and the resources I needed to succeed, and a degree waiting for me on the other side of two years. It was the “summertime” of my life – only bright days were ahead, or so it seemed. Then autumn arrived. My mom suffered a stroke and my world fell apart. Those dreams, which were only months before in my grasp, had fallen from my grip to never be retrieved.

My autumn turned to winter, and things got worse. Depression crept in and tossed my dreams around like the leaves twisted by the biting, swirling winds. It seemed like my dreams were gone forever. They lay on the ground broken and irretrievably scattered. But, then springtime. Those dreams of mine which had died had, in their death, nurtured the dreams that God had for me. The grass, you could say, was greener this side of winter. Because of the death of my early dreams which I had considered a waste, the nourishment was there to allow the dreams God had for me to not only grow, but to thrive.

Now, the spring has come. The chill air of winter has changed to the warming breeze of spring. Although the dreams I had for myself are gone, the richer, fuller, perfect dream that God has for my life is beginning to flourish.